Introduction: To some extent, this essay is an adventure in self-understanding. It is not meant to persuade others to become Christians. If it does persuade others, that is fine—but many of my reasons for faith are not the kind that can be trotted out for empirical examination. But this is true of much real knowledge of believers and unbelievers alike. I seek to explain why I am still a Christian for two reasons: (1) many raised in the church become disillusioned and fall away (2) many Christians have their faith overthrown by the onslaught of secular education. Somehow God’s grace, the truth of God’s Word, and the community of the saints has enabled me to withstand these challenges.
Reason One: Real Christians
Anyone glancing at my life could assume that I am a Christian because I was indoctrinated, brain-washed by years of being raised in the church. So I probably need to begin by “testifying” about what are not causes of my faith. Yes, my father was a pastor and I grew up spending hours in church each week. My father was a good preacher—probably one of the best I have heard over the years, but I am not a Christian because of any of the sermons I have heard. Some might say being raised by a pastor pre-ordained my Christian faith. But honestly, what is the reputation of preacher’s kids? It’s certainly not the norm for them to faithfully follow in their parents’ footsteps.
Growing up, I didn’t hate church or throw a fit of rebellion—I was simply unaffected by it. I would rather be climbing trees, building forts, catching snakes, and hanging out at the swimming pool on a perfect summer day. Sunday was something we offered up to God in thanksgiving—but it was a sacrifice. Even though this offering made sense, it still seemed like an interruption to a good summer vacation or weekend. After church, I was back in my jeans as soon as possible. Although I later came to appreciate the depth of my theological and biblical training during my childhood, my actual faith in Christ is more in spite of church services than because of them.
I do have to blame my parents, but not for dragging me to every church service or even for doing family devotions. They did something far worse and difficult to escape—they lived their faith day in and day out through hard and easy times. Now anyone raised in the church has known plenty of people who are excuses for not believing in God. Every church has enough hypocrites, nuts, and just plain mean people to give a church kid an excuse to sin, rebel, or stop believing. As a pastor’s kid, I probably saw more of the “dark-side” than most kids, but the simple honesty and faithfulness of my parents kept shining the light in my eyes. Dad lived what he preached; Mom still loves mean people and prays faithfully. They weren’t perfect; but they were honest about any failure to be totally Christian. They were the “real deal” and to deny God would have meant to deny what I knew to be true. Their example blocked my escape from God’s reality and stole all my fuel for a good teenage rebellion.
And it was important that Dad was a thinker. He never suggested that to be Christian one had to put his brain in the deep freeze. My father loved literature and philosophy and wasn’t afraid of a hard question. Around the dinner table the family debated philosophy and metaphysics. We were a bookish family. So later it never occurred to me that I should be afraid of the challenges to my faith that modern intellectuals or professors might present. Faith and learning weren’t enemies, and in a fair fight, truth would always win. So I couldn’t look down on the good-hearted but ignorant faith of my parents—they were too smart and too well read. I was stuck.
So what is the logic embedded in this experience? Imagine that we have a hundred reports of unicorn sightings and the National Geographic Society has sent out dozens of teams to investigate these claims. With great sadness, mixed with anger, the reports come in: phony, mistaken, deliberate fraud, hysteria, wishful thinking. But one report comes in—we found a unicorn and here are the pictures and DNA sample. Logically, you only need one true report for unicorns to exist. The other 99 reports are frustrating, but completely irrelevant. Over the years I have seen plenty of the bad or at least questionable reports about God in people’s lives. I have encountered plenty of hypocrites and those who simply mistake their emotions for God’s presence. But early in my life God gave me a handful Christ-followers that I could not explain away. God radiated out of them. They were real—transparent enough that I saw both their faults and the reality of God. Although I now have a long list of these “real deal” Christians who make unbelief hard, it really only takes one for God’s existence to be inescapably true.
So how much stock should I put in this human proof for God? My experiences, encounters, and in some cases relationships with these real Christians are not something I can pull out and show others. Some could say, “Well, you just had nice parents who would have been nice even if they were atheists.” But then I think of my wife’s father who was anything but nice for most of his life and became a Christian when he was 62. He had been so hard and mean that relatives who only knew him before his transformation couldn’t figure out who this loving father and husband was that people were talking about at his funeral. I remember him saying, “I don’t know much about the Bible or being a Christian, but I know it’s mostly about love.” I can’t reproduce the radiance of his face as he said those words—but I know beyond all doubt that only God could have made this hard man so tender.
God intends people, even more than sermons, to be the best evidence of His existence and love. God’s best argument was flesh and blood—his Son made flesh to live among us. And today his most powerful argument is still flesh and blood—believers and followers of Christ who let his love, power, and truth shine out of them.
